


Too Late

by angelheartbeat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sadstuck, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This is just some shit aight I'm tired, aftermath of suicide, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: Maybe if Dirk hadn't been in such a bad mood that day, he'd have noticed the signs.Maybe if he hadn't been such an awful boyfriend, he would have noticed the signs long before.He wished he could do something.But it was too late.





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> im sad and annoyed so have dirkjake feels ive been planning for a while

Maybe if Dirk hadn't been in such a bad mood that day, he'd have noticed the signs. 

The way his boyfriend had been avoiding eye contact, the way his hand had been slipping to his wrist to tug at his sleeve, the way he breathed odd and started words without ever finishing them. The way he whispered "I love you" over and over, barely loud enough for Dirk to hear. 

Maybe if he hadn't been such an awful boyfriend, he'd have noticed the signs long before. 

The way Jake's smile had dwindled to a shadow of it's former self, how his voice never held as much enthusiasm as it usually did. The way he switched to wearing longer shorts and long-sleeved shirts, claiming that he was cold. The way his eyes dulled and lost their sparkle, the way he never kissed with as much passion. How he grew thin from skipping meals, and his eyes grew shadowed with the sleep he was losing. 

Dirk hadn't noticed any of it, and he felt like such a fucking idiot. 

What was even worse was how he had treated Jake the day it happened. 

Dirk had been in an awful mood that day anyway, and it wasn't improved by Jake showing up at his door unannounced. He knew Jake did that sometimes, but he felt shitty and almost turned Jake away, if it hadn't been for the pleading look in the brunets eyes. 

They watched movies and talked, and of-fucking-course Dirk didnt notice how quietly Jake was talking, how he averted his eyes whenever he opened his mouth. 

Eventually the movies ran into one another and collapsed, and the boyfriends were left to stare at one another a little blankly. 

They talked for a while, Dirk growing moodier with every sentence, until something Jake said made him snap - and looking back he couldn't even remember what it was. 

The blond had flipped out, yelling at Jake about the most trivial things. Dirk cringed at the memory. He had told Jake he was sick of his shit, sick of him, sick of his constant jabbering, asking if he ever shut up. Jake had shut up then. He had shut up a long time before, but Dirk had been too wrapped up in himself to even notice. 

He disgusted himself. He felt awful. 

Eventually, in the memory, Dirk had calmed. It was the last part he remembered most clearly, the part that made him almost break down whenever he remembered it. 

Jake had got up from the sofa. He had walked to Dirk's seething form. He had kissed him once on the lips, and once on the forehead, and whispered words Dirk would never forget. 

"I love you, Dirk Strider."

And through gritted teeth, Dirk had hissed his reply. 

"Fuck off, English."

God, just remembering it made him regret everything, made him want to jump back in time and make himself kiss Jake back, hold him close and whisper sweet "I love yous" until Jake had stayed, until his boyfriend hadn't done what he did, until Jake was safe.

Instead, the brunet had smiled his award-winning, authentic Jake English smile, and kissed him again on the forehead, before collecting the few things he had brought and leaving. Neither of them spoke another word, just another thing on the list of regrets Dirk held about that day. 

He had realised his mistake later that evening, calling Jake to apologise. There had been no answer, which the blond had found odd. Jake always answered, no matter the time, particularly to Dirk. 

But no matter how much he called, the brunet never picked up. Dirk remembered himself cursing in the silence of his house, worrying that Jake was angry about his outburst. 

Getting anxious on the tenth call, Dirk decided to apologise in person. 

He had driven to Jake's, cursing all the way. The door was locked, but he fished out his key and let himself in. 

"Jake?"

he had called, his throat constricting with the silence. Maybe he was asleep. 

And indeed, when Dirk had trespassed upstairs and pushed open Jake's door, he saw the brunet lying in bed, eyes closed, a small smile on his face, a shadow of his normal English grin. 

Something had felt off, and despite feeling like a pervert, Dirk had stepped inside. 

The first thing he noticed was how messy the room was. Jake had always had a messy room, but it was never this bad. 

The next thing he noticed was the pill bottles by Jake's bed. 

The empty pill bottles. 

His mind set into panic mode, Dirk remembered. His throat had constricted, his chest had heaved, and he had leapt to Jake in a few steps. Kneeling by his bed, Dirk could feel his hands trembling. 

"No, no, no,"

There was a roaring in his ears as he took Jake's hand. It was still warm, but losing heat fast, and when Dirk put his ear close to Jakes lips, no breath tickled him. 

The brunets chest was still. His hand was cold. His glasses were folded neatly on his bedside table. And in one hand, he clutched an empty pill bottle. 

Dirk couldn't hold in the scream that tore from his throat. He had sobbed for who knows how long, his tears soaking into the mattress as he gripped the hand of Jake's not holding the bottle. He cried and cried, crying even more when he remembered that his last words to Jake were telling him to fuck off. And Jake's last words to him had been love, had been sweet, had been the last time he would ever hear Jake's voice in person. 

It washed over him how awful he had been, and in an instant he remembered all the things he hadn't noticed during the months, putting them all together like a suicidal jigsaw. 

Jake's unwillingness to have sex, his selfconsciousness about his wrists and thighs, but no other parts of his body. His dulled, tired eyes. His lack of spirit and motivation. His lost sense of pride. His nonexistent confidence. Everything, all the things Dirk hadn't noticed the first time round were flooding to him in a rush of emotion, causing him to break out into fresh sobs. 

The funeral was hell to go through.

Jake had never known what he wanted done with his body. On the one hand, he wanted to be buried, outside, always with nature, always an adventurer. But he despised the idea of being shut in a box, of his spirit being enclosed and not allowed to romp around as and when he wished. 

God, Dirk missed him. 

He missed the easy laughter, the toothy grin Jake gave him when he made him happy, the way Jake interlocked their fingers together only to drag him along or let go when he spotted something he liked the look of. He missed the way Jake always smelled of forests and moss, the way he always slept half falling off the bed, the way he woke up early, even the way he sometimes disappeared before Dirk awoke and made the blond panic. 

He missed the way Jake chewed through pens when he was thinking, the way he filled his speech with old-timey English sayings, the way he laughed when he was nervous, the way he was oblivious to any lowkey flirting Dirk tried to slip in. The way he sighed and the way he stretched, the way he would half collapse when he was tired enough, the way he always whacked Dirk gently with the spatula when he made pancakes and Dirk, inevitably, tried to drink the batter. 

He missed the way Jake's eyes sparkled, the way he kissed Dirk's knuckles when they held hands, the way he was a perfect gentleman without even trying. The way he charmed anyone with his easygoing nature, his love of adventure, his ramblings that even Dirk couldn't follow sometimes, the way he ran and worked out and came back smelling softly of sweat and green. He missed the way Jake's eyes crinkled, the curve of his chest as he laughed his ass off, the way he cuddled Dirk as they lay and talked about life. 

Dirk missed everything about him, from the sweep of black hair framing his perfect face to the way he snuffled softly when he was just nodding off. 

Dirk missed Jake. 

But Jake was six feet under the ground, his spirit potentially trapped, and Dirk had never felt guiltier.

If he had just been in a better mood. Been a better boyfriend. Been more observant.

But he wasn't. And no amount of missing and remembering could change that Jake English was dead at his own hands, leaving behind the depression that Dirk could hardly have changed, much as the blond liked to think he could have. 

It was too late. 

**Author's Note:**

> lol why do i always make my favourite characters suicidal
> 
> lmaoo hope y'all enjoyed that it was just kinda me rambling for most of it


End file.
